


Pride and Pomegranates

by LuckyDuck49



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece, Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Drunkenness, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Flustered!Darcy, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Like really fast, Magic, Misunderstandings, Sharing a Bed, ”WHAT ARE THESE??? FEEELINGS????!?!???”
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29611818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyDuck49/pseuds/LuckyDuck49
Summary: Pride and Prejudice reimagined as my All Time Favorite Myth. WIP, will post as much as I can. Lots of cute banter and awkwardness, with plenty of mythological references.What happens when the Almighty Lord of the Dead is brought to his knees by a simple flower goddess? How will she react? How will he? And the most important question of all: Will love be strong enough to withstand the backlash from tasting the forbidden fruit? ❤️A fun, fluffy, and flirty story of Pride, Prejudice, and Pomegranates, inspired by the myth of Hades and Persephone.
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy, Hades/Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi y’all! I know, I KNOW, I have other WIPs too. But this one is very fun and easy to write, and shouldn’t take very long. MAX 30,000 words, but it’ll prbly be more like 15K. Anyway, I will be posting as fast as I can, but for now, enjoy!
> 
> Please note: this is entirely self-indulgent. I just thought it would be a fun idea— it won’t be completely depending on either myth or book. What it will be, is cute :)  
> ~ Vinny

It is a truth anciently acknowledged that a god in possession of power, wealth, and immortality, must be in want of a wife that is his equal in every way. That is what the oracles have been saying for years— for anyone smart enough to listen. Unfortunately, nowadays, the gods have gotten all these newfangled ideas about polygamy and intercourse: nobody even gets married beforehand! At least, no immortals do.

_That was the problem,_ he decided. He, meaning Darci, that is. The problem was all these no-good gods and goddesses, always scampering about under the feet of IMPORTANT deities. 

The Lord of the Dead considered himself to be very important indeed.

His true name— one only known by other immortals— was Lord Darci Hades. His given name, Darci, had no meaning, other than a color. His name meant a shade, a shadow of a hue, one as black as midnight and as blinding as the stars. Dark.

The dark suited him well; from the tips of his ebony and iron-tipped sandals, to the glittering gems of his eyes— ones that never closed, if he could help it. His skin also was a dark, tanned olive color, sickly in the wrong light, and even his hair was rebelliously black. His robes were the color of ink stains, and his bracelets were woven with the souls of the damned.

However, most mortals ignored this wicked-cool name, and simply called him by the name THEY had given him: Hades. The one that meant ‘Unseen’. 

Now, it is all well and good to pray to Immortals by the names you give them, but it is quite another to address them— _in person—_ by a nickname like that. If you wanted to keep your neck attached to your spine, you would call him Darci.

There was only one thing wrong with that. 

Being ‘unseen’ suited the great Lord almost as much as the darkness did. 

Philosophers and fools might speculate that this is because it was inherent to his nature, that death comes quickly and goes unnoticed by many. They would probably write some great essay or a play about how the power a god wields shapes their personality, and how their personality molds their power.

Truthfully? Darci just hated social activities. And people, he hated people too.

So, he really didn’t know what he was doing on Olympus that day, besides skulking in a corner and picking at the lint on his toga.

All around him, the sounds of boisterous gods and demigods raged, and flashing lights abounded. The clouds were permeated by spectral strobe lights, and wind nymphs tore through the air. It was so loud Darci could hardly hear himself think.

“ARE YOU HAVING FUN?!”

Darci winced, and patted his ear consolingly. “Not really, if I’m honest.”

His brother wheezed in irritating laughter. “Oh, you’re never having fun, Darci old boy! C’mon, LIVE A LITTLE!”

“I have all eternity for that, thank you,” he replied stiffly. “No need to force me into the fray this time, Wikaam.” 

His older brother, the sinful god of the Heavens, Lord Wikaam Zeus, grinned at him. “Oh ho ho, but you know I do, brother!”

Darci pointedly ignored him, as he had been doing for centuries. He and Wikaam had grown up together— that didn’t mean they were close. Or respected each other. Case in point, how Wikaam was speaking to him right now.

“Looklooklook,” he drawled, running a hand through his corn silk hair, “You _gotta_ meet some of the new goddesses. Fresh out the clay! They are fiiiine: ambrosia babes, every last one of them.”

Darci made a face. “Gods, Wikaam, you _know_ how I feel about speaking to women like that.”

“But we’re not speaking TO them, just ABOUT them!” He argued jovially, “And they’re not women; they’re goddesses. Lush, _succulent_ goddesses with CURVES EVERYWHERE _HUMMINAH HUMMINAH—“_

 _“ALRIGHT,_ I GET IT!” Darci shouted. His olive skin was beginning to flush— more so when two of the muses passed them giggling (having obviously heard the conversation). Darci covered his face while his brother winked at them.

Once the muses passed, Darci peeked through his fingers, glaring at Wikaam. “Please. Find better company than me tonight. I am in no humor to humor you.”

Wikaam laughed. “Ah, I get it!” He stuck a finger in his face, right up to Darci’s sharp nose. “You think you’re better than us Olympians! Is that it?”

Darci swatted the finger away, scowling. “No, I don’t.”

“Then prove it!” 

He sighed through his nose. “How do you propose I do that?”

Wikaam grinned cheekily. “I dare you….” He paused here, for effect. “To bed a goddess. Right here. Tonight.”

“What!?” Darci cried. He looked around, mortified that someone might overhear. He hissed to his brother, “I am _NOT_ doing that.”

“Why the hades not?” Wikaam exclaimed. Then paused. “Ah. Um. No offense intended.”

“None taken. But seriously, WHY on GAEA would I need to.. to… to do _that_ tonight?”

Wikaam sucker punched him, then laughed as if it was funny. “BECAUSE,” he said, taking advantage of Darci’s doubling over to put him in a headlock, “you, dear brother ARE A GOD! And to my knowledge, you have not even sired an heir yet! You’re no vestal virgin— don’t have the hips— so STOP ACTING LIKE ONE!”

“ALRIGHT,” he shouted back, shoving his brother away. “I’ll find a.. I’ll find someone. Happy?”

“Tonight?” Wikaam pressed, grinning. 

Darci glared back. “No,” he spat out. “Everyone at this party is either off-limits, or the sexual equivalent to the back end of a centaur. And even then, NOT a thoroughbred.”

Wikaam guffawed, drawing (to Darci’s intense embarrassment) the attention of even more people. “Horribly put, as always, Darci! Whatever. ‘S your immortality, so suit yourself, I guess.”

Darci sniffed. He crossed his arms, and hoped the conversation would end soon. 

Apparently, the Lord of the Skies did not feel the same. He slung one arm around his brother, as if they weren’t estranged and basically cosmic enemies. He leaned in, smirking, and Darci could smell the stench of ethyl nectar on him. 

“Hey— Broody McBroodster. How abouts you and me have a dance-off!”

“Aaaand, that’s my cue to leave.”

“Wait, Darci, where ya goin’?!”

“Out for a walk,” he called over his shoulder, “don’t wait up.”

Thankfully, Wikaam didn’t hear him. He was too busy eyeing two new goddesses who had been hidden behind the punchbowl. Soon though, he moved on, which was really just as well. Had he heard the goddess’ conversation, he would have rained spiteful thunderbolts upon them for such an insult. Instead, he just went to find a sea nymph to molest.

“See?” The younger said, “I _told_ you the Elder Gods were trash!”

“Hmm,” her companion said into her cup. This goddess wore an owl mask and a discreet silver robe— it contrasted harshly with the younger’s bright, technicolor cloak.

“But that was just Zeus,” the older eventually retorted, “We already knew he was.. ahm… like that.”

The one with the bright cloak sighed, crossing her arms sulkily. “I guess. Still, it proves my point.”

“But you have to admit, that other god didn’t seem too horrible.”

The younger tilted her head at this, considering. She smiled, and shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. But I don’t think I know him.”

“I could introduce you sometime,” her friend offered. The younger barked a laugh that caused daisies to spring up in the wall sconces.

“Gods no! Do you _know_ what mother would do to me if she knew I was interested in guys?”

The older goddess shuddered theatrically before chuckling. “Yeah, I guess that’s a no then.”

“Definitely.” The younger turned her head, gazing off the way the handsome stranger had gone. “And yet….”

“UGH, Elisabet!”

The younger’s head shot up questioningly, then looked to where her friend was pointing.

“Oh gods, this just gets better and better..,” Elisabet sighed. 

Her friend, Lady Carlett Athena, put a steadying hand on her shoulder. “I understand. You have to save your nymph before the Big Man in the Sky gets too handsy.”

“Yeah,” Elisabet sighed, shooting her friend an apologetic smile, “Ioanna is like a sister to me, but.. she is still naive in the ways of the gods.”

“I know.”

“I have to go. I’m sorry.”

“I know this too.”

“Then you’ll forgive me?”

They both smiled, and a look of understanding passed between the friends. Elisabet’s mother restricted her access to other gods; it would be months before the two friends met again. 

Carlett nodded, and pulled Elisabet in for a hug. “Of course I’ll forgive you. It’s out of your control. Until you are out and decide you want suitors, the mortal realm is where you stay.” 

She winked, her owl mask twitching conspiratorially in the pulsing lights. “Just let me know when _you_ fall in love, Elisa. Then we can finally talk like normal gods again.”

Elisabet groaned and laughed, shaking off her friend as she walked to the edge of Olympus. She looked over her shoulder, grinning. “Yeah. Like that’s ever gonna happen.”

Then she jumped, and the sky shattered into stars below her fingertips. Elisabet Persephone, the goddess of Spring, fell through the night and into her destiny. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter. Darci’s POV of the First Sighting™. Will post again pronto— with all the promised flirting and blushing and general FLUFF to make yall (and me) happy :)  
> Until then, stay safe and enjoy! 🌼 ~Vinny

“Tell me again why we’re doing this?” Darci asked as he scratched at his neck. 

Human disguises looked very very similar to gods, but you could  _ feel  _ the difference in the skin. It was like two sides of the velcro. It worked mostly the same, but one was soft and smooth, and the other was itchy and gross. He scratched harder. He felt like he had fleas, though that was impossible.

“Stop scratching!” His best friend said, gently pulling Darci’s hands to his sides, “You’ll wear through the skin, and then what would we do?”

“Revert back to our normal forms?” Darci grumbled. 

The ever-cheerful Binlei Hermes sighed into a smile. He slapped his old friend on the back and laughed. “Now, you know we can’t do that here! C’mon, just a little farther. Then I’ll be out of your hair, m’Lord.”

“No no,” he protested, trying to adjust to a more supportive expression, “I’m coming with you. You asked me to be your… what was it you said?”

“Wingman,” Binlei filled in. 

“Right, wingman.” Darci paused, cocking his head slightly. “Um, what does that mean again?”

Binlei stopped walking and leaned against a rotting oak. He crossed his winged shoes at the ankles, and tilted his head back. When he spoke, his voice was dreamy and sickeningly content.

“I saw her, Darci. The one for me. My pissing piece. My angel.”

Darci coughed into his fist. “And.. what was her name again?”

Binlei glared at him (with no real malice). “I didn’t  _ get _ her name. Weren’t you listening yesterday? I saw her from the clouds, and she was here! In the mortal realm, visiting some friend of hers. I dunno anything else, other than she was the most gorgeous nymph I ever saw, and I love her.”

The Lord of the Dead snorted in an undignified way. “Sure.  _ Love,” _ he said, as if it was a particularly oozing kind of wart. 

“Yes,  _ love,”  _ his friend mocked good-naturedly. “And I want to see her again. Y’know. Learn her name.”

“And.. you need me for this… why?”

Binlei blushed a little, and the wings of his sandals flapped nervously. “Uh.. I get a little.. uhhh… tongue-twisted, around maidens like her.”

Darci rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said, patting his friend’s shoulder, “I’ll help you.”

“Thanks, m’Lord!” Binlei grinned.

Darci shook his head wonderingly at his friend as he bounced off through the undergrowth. The elder god squinted up at the foliage above, frowning. He never came to the mortal realm if he could help it. It was always too bright, too loud, and way too sweaty. Besides, the only immortals that lived there were lower-class: nymphs and satyrs and the like. Darci had his own palace under the ground; he had no need for these cosmopolitan ideals.

Still, he couldn’t deny that as he moved out of the oaken grove and into the light, that it was pretty here. 

The sunlight combed through the rolling fields of green, the lush reeds populated with spots of brashly colored wildflowers. The hills were gentle, and a thin creek of freshwater as clear as glass cut through by their feet. The horizon stretched up and over mountains in the distance, cotton-ball clouds accumulating at the peaks. The wind strolled through the grass, seeming to pause and soak up the sunshine and unabashed splendor of the meadow.

Binlei whistled. “Gods almighty— it doesn’t get better than this.”

Darci managed to pick his jaw off the floor in order to don an indifferent facade. He crossed his arms and squinted. “It’s okay. For Earth.”

The younger god laughed at his friend, before stopping short, his breath stolen by the sight of his lady love. “Ohmystars,” he breathed, “It’s  _ her.” _

Darci followed his friend’s eyes to a nearby hill, where two feminine outlines lounged on a picnic blanket.

Darci shrugged. Then, in a few swift motions, he grabbed the back of his friend’s tunic, and started dragging him across the grass.

As Binlei struggled (without using his immortal strength [because that would be rude]), Darci grinned for the first time that day. “C’mon, loverboy! No more gawking from a distance, we have to meet your nymph!”

“Fine, fine, fine,” he said, “Just put me down!”

Darci put him down, and the two gods-in-disguise continued the rest of the way up the hill. Looking up now, Darci could make out the face of one of the women above.

She was tall and thin, willowy, in a way, but instead of branches in her hair, she had a wreath of translucent yellow flowers in her straight blond mane. Her dress matched her eyes: sky blue and almost as pale as the clouds. She was your standard knock-out. 

Darci looked to the side, and snorted. Yup. Binlei was already drooling.

“Good afternoon, fair maids!” He called exuberantly, bouncing like a puppy. “Isn’t it a lovely day to meet a friend?”

At the sound of his voice, the other woman (who had been just the back of a head to them) turned around, and suddenly Darci couldn’t breathe.

_ Who. Was. She. _

__ Her hair was brown and gold and cinnamon, curling loosely around her shoulders. Cherry blossoms threaded through the long tresses that spiraled over her bare shoulders. Her skin was tanned and glowing with life. Her dress was pink and silken, clinging enchantingly to every plane and curve of her rapturous figure. Her face was heart shaped. Freckles were dashed across the blush of her cheeks and round button of her nose. And her eyes—

Darci didn’t have a chance to describe them— even to himself. As soon as those eyes locked with his, every atom in his body soared with energy; his knees became weak and his lungs contracted tightly into his chest. His face was aflame, his heart rate hard and fast in his ears.

_ What was happening to him?? _

__ This goddess would be the end of him. His undoing. His downfall. His last temptation. And he would go to her willingly, meet his maker, if only she would speak to him, and grace his poor soul with her presence a little longer.

This feeling, this all-encompassing surge of unfamiliar emotion, was so overpowering to the god, that when she did speak, he didn’t know if he could take another second of this sweet, sweet torture.

“Hello,” she said. 

And then the Almighty Lord of the Underworld fainted dead away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darci is starstruck by his newfound lady love, and accidentally flirts with her. Silly fluff and cuteness. Will post again soon, gearing up for some action ;) Might be Elisa’s POV next enjoy!

It was only for a second, but a faint is a faint, and Darci opened his eyes to find himself in the very uncomfortable position of being crumpled on the ground like a common mortal. 

His face flushed scarlet, and he tried to scramble to his feet.  _ Tried,  _ because in his human form, all the blood that he was not used to having rushed from his head, and he collapsed back onto the grass. That was about when the crippling embarrassment set in. 

_ WHAT WAS HE DOING— The Lord of the Dead fainting like a delicate maiden that saw a mouse! _

Except he had not seen a mouse. He had seen the most lovely, most radiant, most enchanting being in all of existence. 

And he had fainted. 

_ Gods, he was an idiot.  _ Darci covered his face with his hands and groaned.

“Hello? Hello there, sir, are you alright?” A feminine voice asked with a touch of humor tinged with concern in her soft voice.

“He just fainted! Is he ill?” Another questioned.

“Here,” the first, more melodious voice said, “Let me help you.”

Darci felt his body being moved, and suddenly his head was lifted onto something firm and higher up. He peeked through his fingers to see that he was now laying in the goddess’ lap. 

She smiled at him, and suddenly all thoughts fell from his head. A hand— petite and indescribably soft— smoothed back the curls from his forehead, and suddenly Darci’s body went limp and he melted under her soft touch. 

He stared up at her, completely starstruck.

“Good, you’re awake,” she said. Her teeth captured her bottom lip in a smile. “I was worried there.”

“I hope I am not awake,” he murmured dazedly, not taking his eyes off her. “You are the nicest dream I’ve ever had.”

She laughed, and Darci felt elation blooming in his chest at the sound. It was carefree as a bluebird, and her laughter soared just the same. She grinned down at him, raising one perfect eyebrow. “Are you always this charming?”

“No, actually, I’m not.”

She laughed again, and Darci knew in that moment he would do anything for her. Anything at all.

“I’ll say,” his unwanted friend’s voice cut in, causing Darci to frown, “Usually he’s much more curmudgeon-y.”

“All the better,” the goddess said, now smiling up at Binlei (Darcy felt a rush of irrational discomfort; he found he didn’t like when she smiled at anyone but  _ him),  _ “That simply means our new friend is complex.”

“Are you complex, sir?” She asked, now turning her attention back to the man in her lap.

He flushed, and raised his shoulders in what he hoped was a nonchalant fashion. “I do not know if I am the best judge of that, madam.”

“Well, don’t worry,” she said cheekily, “My friends say I am an excellent judge of character. Very well,” the goddess said to an enraptured Darci, “I will puzzle out your character, strange sir!”

“By all means,” he replied with a slow grin, “Take your time.”

Both Binlei and the goddess laughed at this, but Darci only noticed her. He was studying her face, allowing his eyes to search and memorize every curve and crevice of the perfection before him.

Her freckles were more numerous than he had thought. They were crinkled constellations, swept up in the tidal wave radiance of her smile. In that moment, Darci would have given his kingdom to spend the rest of his immortal life counting each freckle, and marking it with a kiss.

Her eyes were open now, and—  _ by all the Gods—  _ they were even more lovely the second time. 

Framed by dark lashes as thick as a forest of night, her eyes were gemstones blinking down at him. A piercing emerald green, the edges were amassed with a warm brown, as if the jewels were just emerging from the soil, beckoning him into their earthen embrace.

He broke her gaze for just a moment, his eyes darting down to her mouth almost of their own free will. Her lips were rosebuds in the summertime, barley unfurling and moist with morning dew. They were plump and gorgeous and just begging to be kissed. 

Almost imperceptibly, Darci could feel himself rising slowly, up, up, up, until her mouth was so close to his that he could almost taste the jasmine and honeysuckle on her breath, breath that fanned out and warmed his cheeks as his lips were nearly—

The goddess, blushing furiously, pushed him gently back down. 

“Uhm,” she said, her voice straining just slightly under a smile. “Uh- how rude of me! I did not properly introduce myself to you gentlemen!” 

Her eyes seemed to be deliberately avoiding Darci’s, something that he did not like, but could understand. Thinking rationally now, the god could not identify WHAT in the HADES had possessed him to— to— almost—

“Well, we didn’t introduce ourselves either,” Binlei cut in again (this time, with Darci grateful for the intrusion), “I am.. um.. Binlei the farmer, and this is my good friend and fellow human farmer, Darci. What.. are your names..?” He directed this last part to the nymph, who blushed prettily.

The goddess answered. “I am Elisabet Persephone, Goddess of Spring. This is my nymph and close friend, Ioanna.”

“Hello,” Ioanna said shyly. 

“Ioanna,” Binlei sighed dreamily. “That’s such a beautiful name.” 

“Th-thank you,” the nymph stuttered softly. It was almost irritating, how innocent she seemed as she fought to assimilate a smile. “It means ‘The gods have blessed me.’”

“And might I say, miss, indeed they have,” he replied sincerely.

Ioanna blushed again, and cupped her pale face. As Binlei and she moved into more private conversation, Elisabet glanced down at the man in her lap.

“Well, you’re certainly not the only charmer in your community,” she said impertinently.

“Um, what?” He replied, distracted by a curl that dragged lazily across her smooth collarbone, “Oh yes. Definitely, not the only one.”

She giggled again, and Darci thought he would spontaneously combust when her hands began absentmindedly playing with his dark curls. “You’re a silly human,” she cooed warmly, “What was your name again?”

“Darci,” he said, his voice falling flat on the roof of his mouth. 

It had suddenly hit him that she was addressing him not as a god, but as a mortal. Inferior. Childlike. How a human might treat a guinea pig. It stung to hear the woman he felt such raw emotion for treat him like a lesser being. He was filled also with a sudden guilt; what would she think of him when she learned the truth— a liar of the first degree.

“Hmm,” Elisabet hummed, massaging his scalp in a way that would surely drive the great being to madness (and he would go willingly too), “That’s a nice name. What does it mean?”

“Huh? Oh, um, my name means ‘unseen.’”

Just as he said it, Darci realized his mistake. But it was too late— Elisabet let out that carefree bluebird laugh again. 

“Oh no, silly human,  _ Hades  _ means unseen.” 

“Right, ahm, my mistake,” Darci squeaked.

“I’ve never met him,” she whispered conspiratorially, “Have you?”

“Who?”

“Hades.” She paused, then shook her head at herself. “Oh, what am I saying. You’re mortal. A god that ‘important’ would never lower himself to  _ our  _ realm.”

Ignoring the subtle jibe (failure to do so would blow his cover), Darci nestled himself further into her lap, tilting his head to better study her face. This maneuver, of course, had nothing to do with the fact that her skirts were thin silk, and he could feel the intoxicating warmth radiating from her thighs and they pressed up against his cheek— of course not. It was because he wanted to see her better, that was all

_ “Our _ realm?” He asked, blinking to clear his addled brains.

“Oh yes,” she smiled, “Our realm.”

She gestured around them flippantly, but with an air of pride about her that was endearingly genuine. “All of this?” Elisabet said, “Is mine. The Spring is my territory, and I mold each and every flower, every blossom and every bloom— all the world here is under my command.”

She smiled down at him, her emerald eyes catching the sunlight. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Yes,” he whispered thickly, “Wonderful.”

“And the best part is— no other gods!”

“Yes, no other—,” he sat up. “Wait, pardon?”

Elisabet continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “This season is off-limits to gods! My mother, Demeter, you know, is very strict with me. She is keeping me here and forbidding all other male gods from talking to me,” she giggled. “Lest one whisk me away when I am still not ready!”

“You… don’t want to meet gods?”

Elisabet wrinkled her cute little nose. “Goddesses, yes, but gods? Eh, maybe not. I’ve heard so many stories about the Elder Gods— it’s horrible the things they get away with in regards to young women. I’m grateful for the protection.”

“Besides,” she said softly, “only the very deepest of loves will tempt me into matrimony.”

He could give her the deepest of loves. He knew he could. He could give her the world, bare his soul to her, make her Queen of all his realm. He could do it. Right now, he could do it. 

But something stopped Darci. It was the innocent way she petted his hair, and how she smiled at him without a hint of suspicion. And he had lied to her. She would have never even talked to him, if she knew who he really was.

Darci felt sick to his stomach. The sweet scent of wildflowers was choking him now, and his blush felt scalding on his skin.

“Excuse me,” he managed to gasp before his throat closed with finality, “I’m so sorry, my darling, but I need to go.”

He stumbled away from her tender hands and the voices that called after him. He staggered down the hill, his body barely registering the pounding of his feet below him. He broke into a run, and didn’t stop until he reached the forest. Yet somehow, in his mind’s eye, he could still see the Goddess of Spring, now mistress of his heart, laying in the distance behind him, one hand outstretched. 

As far as he ran, he could not escape the sense that he had left something behind— something he had never known, but now could not bear to live without.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shortish chapter. E’s POV— reflecting on their meeting. Next one is gonna be very fun to write, so hang on ;)

After the strange human with the handsome face left, it was up to his friend (Binlei, his name was?) to carry on the conversation.

“So, um,” he mumbled, trying to gain traction, “Are you.. do you two live around here?”

“We are children of Nature,” Elisabet answered distractedly. “We do not have a fixed dwelling.”

“Uhm. Yes. Right. Of course.”

“Where do you live?” Ioanna asked kindly, but it only seemed to make the human more uncomfortable. He stammered out some kind of response, but Elisabet was no longer listening. She was staring out into the forest, after the second man.

She didn’t know what to make of him.

He was human, which was a point in his favor. His clothes were simple and poor, but he held himself with a self-imposed dignity; a sense of importance that hung around his shoulders like a cloak.

His face was handsome— far more handsome than any mortal she had seen before. His nose was angular and sharp, his cheeks flushed against a tanned undertone. And his eyes were like nothing she had ever seen.

Curling up on the grass, Elisabet tucked her knees under her chin. Her hair fell in a curtain across her face, thankfully hiding her expression. She was blushing hotly, though she didn’t know why.

He had blushed too— the man, Darci. A few times, his handsome face had brightened with color. He had seemed so composed; so unruffled and so perfect, that Elisabet just couldn’t resist riling him up a little. And, to her delight, he had teased back!

Granted, he had done so with an air of solemn sincerity (that made her a little flustered, now that she thought about it), but he  _ had  _ flirted back! It was a warm, giddy feeling he gave her. 

What stopped her from solely feeling that warm, soft emotion though, was the power that emanated from his sturdy gaze. A human shouldn’t look that way. It wasn’t right.

It wasn’t right, that when he had collapsed at the feet of a goddess,  _ she  _ had been the one to feel powerless. Her heart fluttered, as she remembered holding his head in her lap.

His hair was dark black and curly, softer than the clouds and darker than the night sky. She had run her hands through it almost unconsciously, the fluffy curls bouncing to life under her fingertips. Elisabet could run her fingers through it all day, and indeed, she wanted to. That was what scared her.

She had never felt such a strong attraction to anyone— much less a human! Oh gods, that look he had given her… it had seemed he was about to press his lips to hers, and worst of all, Elisabet would have welcomed it!

Her face burned just thinking about it. She was a  _ goddess!  _ Kissing a human… it.. it was not done! Thankfully, she had pushed him down before the unthinkable could occur, but  _ still!  _

It was just not right.

Darci had unsettled her, more than she would like to admit. And she would certainly never admit (not even to herself) that being  _ unsettled _ had never felt so good.

She couldn’t stop thinking about him.

_ Something about him… _

Even when Darci was completely at the mercy of a goddess, he had radiated this.. this  _ aura  _ of power. It thrummed through his bones, pulsing in the air all around him. It pounding against Elisabet’s senses in waves, and without her permission, her own heartbeat had taken up the same rapid tempo. 

And those cool, unbothered eyes… as deep as Tartarus and twice as dark, they glittered with the seductive promise of the unknown.

Elisabet swallowed hard. 

Even just remembering it, she could feel primroses sprouting up around her palms (a natural response to strong emotion) as well as a blush creeping up from her neck.

If she hadn’t already entertained doubts of becoming an eternal maiden, those sweet dark eyes would have convinced her in a snap, that celibacy was  _ way  _ overrated.

...on second thought, maybe it was better that he was just a human. She would likely never see him again— and that was a good thing!

No one had ever.. made her feel that way before.

She smiled to herself, shrugging off her worries like a shawl.  _ It didn’t matter,  _ she decided,  _ What Darci had meant by it all.  _ The fact was, she was a goddess, and he was just a man. Nothing could come of these feelings, however strong they may be.

“Elisa? Elisa!”

“Hm, yes!” The goddess’ head shot up, an embarrassed smile creeping over her features at being caught wool-gathering. “I am sorry, Ioanna, what were you saying?”

The nymph giggled softly, brushing her hair away from her face.  _ “I  _ was not saying anything, m’Lady. Merely repeating Mr Binlei’s kind offer of a meal.”

She turned her eyes to Binlei, who smiled back and forth at the two women. “Yes yes,” he said, grinning hugely, “It would be an honor for a mere mortal like me to dine with such.. divine beauty.”

Ioanna blushed again, and raised her eyes hopefully to her friend. Elisabet laughed a little. She had often seen some man or another enamored by her most loyal nymph, but never before had one given Ioanna such an effect.

“Oh, I am not a connoisseur of mortal food,” she said regretfully, and Ioanna’s face fell. “BUT,” Elisabet added quickly, “I am sure you two can manage without me.”

“Really, mistress?” Ioanna gasped delightedly, her porcelain face lighting up like the northern star, “I can?”

“Yes you can, poppet,” Elisabet said fondly. “Now off with you!” She pulled Binlei to the side, and adopted a mock-stern gaze. “Have her back here by sundown, young man.”

He laughed, giving her a goofy salute. “Yes, ma’am!”

“Have fun, you crazy kids!” Elisabet waved as the Binlei offered the nymph his arm, and the two set off. She watched with a fond smile as the pair made their way down the hill.  _ She liked this Binlei, _ she decided.  _ And if he ever did anything to hurt Ioanna, Elisabet would rip his arms off. _

She yawned slightly, and stretched out on the grass. Immediately, an apple tree began growing under her, the branches lifting her up into a gentle cradle. She drifted through languid dreams, smiling to herself. 

The Goddess of Spring slept soundly, worn out by a day of unusual emotions. She dreamt of dark eyes and warm hands, and shifted contentedly in her sleep.

Little did she know, that as she was dreaming so peacefully in her little meadow, that one of the most powerful gods in existence was thinking about her. 

And also, getting piss drunk because of it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, as this one turned out, it’s a touch more angsty— the NEXT one is gonna be the silly drunk fluff. Let’s get down to it y’all 😁 hope you enjoy

Darci was going to effing kill Eros. 

You know Eros? Also went by Cupid, if you were from the West? Son of Aphrodite, the god responsible for falling love at first sight? Yeah. Him. Darci was going to kill him.

Except he knew, deep in his heart of hearts, that Eros had not been responsible for this. There were no heart-tipped arrows, or angel-feathers to blame. There was only him, and only her. Only the feeling that nothing would ever be the same, after he had seen the smile of Persephone.

The goddess of spring, who had captured his heart. He sighed, rubbing his face. Her real name was Elisabet.  _ Elisabet.  _ It sounded like an endearment, rolling off the tip of his tongue. It was warm and light and joyful— just like her.

Spring was a time of life, and Elisabet had captured that perfectly in every spontaneous action she took, every vivacious laugh that rose from her lips. 

And Darci was her opposite in every way. He was cold, and dark, and disdainful of the world around him. He hated all the world, except for her. And it hurt, realizing that. Realizing that even though he was one of the most powerful gods in all the cosmos, she would never give him a second glance.

_ ...GODS, he didn’t know how to deal with this! With these.. these _ **_feelings!_ **

He couldn’t talk to her (especially not now that he had fled. Like a coward.), but he couldn’t stay away either. His heart— and organ Darci had barely known he had— was now crying out desperate in his chest every moment Elisabet wasn’t in his arms.

Darci slumped against a tree, breathing hard, and allowed his human disguise to melt away and reveal his true form. Even then, he could not get rid of the frantic fluttering in his abdomen, the blood pounding through his veins like a steel drum. He clutched at his chest, willing his body to obey him again. 

It didn’t.

He was still breathing hard, sweating abnormally, and overheated. Gods didn’t  _ get _ overheated! Alright, that settled it. He was never using a human form again. But if he never used a human form again, he would never be able to see her again and he needed to see her again and touch her and hold her and ohdeargods what was happening to him.

Darci needed help. Help with.. relationships. He didn’t really know many people in a healthy relationship (again, the polyamorous thing had kind of shaken up the Olympian couple in the last few centuries), so he chose to contact the next best thing.

Goddess the marriage, his sister-in-law, Caerolin Hera. She would help him, for a noble cause like this. Plus, Darci was pretty sure she was obsessed with him (his status, more like) and so that might be a point in his favor. 

Regardless, before Darci could talk himself out of the idea, he sent Caerolin a letter via Wind nymph. In it he said:

_ ‘Dear Caerolin— I would like your advice in matters of matrimony. Or, possibly matrimony, that is, I find myself uncharacteristically indecisive. It is a bit complicated, and I would prefer to meet in-person. You know I would not ask this of you twere I not desperate, so take a chill pill and don’t go cuckoo on me please. I am JUST looking for help. Send back a reply as soon as possible. And might I say, great party last week, your majesty. It was.. diverting. Thank you for inviting me. Yours sincerely, D. H.’ _

He got a reply almost right away. It blew into his face, giving him a papercut (which he healed instantly, but still— annoying). The reply said simply:

_ ‘Dont sweat it bro. Go to Lucas’ Tavern, I’ll be there in a snap to help u out’ _

Darci tried not to worry about the note too much as he melted back into existence outside Lucas’ Tavern. He hadn’t spoken to Caerolin in a while. Maybe something had changed in her mannerisms to make her… come across that way. 

The Lord of the Dead shook out his shoulders, frowning at himself. The Lord of the Dead, King of Wealth, Ruler of the Underworld, did not  _ fret  _ about  _ insignificant _ matters.

His shoulders now thrown back and rigid, straining against his coal black toga, Darci marched into the tavern.

As soon as he did, his godly pride failed him and he gagged at the smell. It was.. truly horrible. Acrid vomit and cheap olive oil rotting somewhere to the side. The tavern was fairly gloomy, with unlit torches lining the stone walls and the draperies consisting solely of shadow and cobwebs, but the pit in the center— the one with scandalously clad dryads performing some dance routine— was brighter than the noontime sun.

Darci wasn’t sure whether to summon a flame to see, or squint against the glare. Instead, he just grunted and sat down heavily at the bar. 

He gestured for the bartender, but before the man could serve him, an elbow clocked the god in the skull.

His face hit the table with a crack and a “WHAT THE FU—,” before his voice was drowned out by the uproarious laughter of Olympus’ favorite golden boy, Wikaam ‘the Almighty’ Zeus.

“Oh Gods,” he wheezed, plopping down beside Darci and slapping his thigh, “Your face! I-”

“Yeah, I think that’s ichor,” Darci confirmed, touching the fresh scrape on his forehead and feeling the sticky blood of immortals come away on his fingers. He healed himself without thinking about it, then punched his brother in the eye.

“HEY!” Wikaam squawked, nearly toppling over, “UNCALLED FOR!”

“What the hades are you doing here, you bastard,” Darci said.

Wikaam huffed, straightening his cream-colored toga as if  _ he  _ had been wronged. “Well, Angrypants, I was  _ about  _ to help you!”

“Oh for the love The Fates,” Darci growled. “I’m gonna need a drink!” He yelled to the bartender. “Ethyl Ambrosia please— and strong too!”

“Better make it a double!” His brother added, grinning wolfishly. “We’re having  _ fun  _ tonight.”

“And why is that,  _ Zeus,”  _ Darci spat, glaring at him.  _ “Why,  _ of all the beings you could harass tonight, did you choose lucky ol’ me?”

“Because,  _ Hades,”  _ Wikaam retorted with a divinely annoying smile, “You’re the being I need to help tonight!”

“How on GAEA could  _ you,” _ Darci pointed at the self-centered train wreck before him, “Help  _ me,” _ he said, pointing back to himself.

“Have a little faith in your brother, why don’tcha?”

“Lost that the first time you raped an underage mortal.”

Wikaam shrugged. “Fair enough.” Ironically, his tone sobered as he took a first sip of his drink. “I’m here to save your ass, brother.”

“From what?” Darci replied sarcastically. He could feel his eyebrows knitting several creases in his godly forehead as he glowered at the being next to him.

“Simple,” Wikaam shrugged again, irritatingly nonchalant. “You’re in love.”

Darci pulled the bartender aside. He whispered to the man, “Please keep the drinks strong, and keep them coming. I’m gonna need them tonight.”

The man nodded, a little wary, and once Darci was satisfied soon he would be too drunk to have to endure his brother’s company, he turned back to Wikaam. “So,” he said, lacing his hands behind his head, “How exactly do you figure that? And why would it be a bad thing?”

“Even simpler,” Wikaam said, “I saw the letter you sent my ball-and-chain wife. She’s crazy about you, y’know.”

“I know,” Darci rolled his eyes, “But I’m her brother.”

“Not by blood,” Wikaam winked. “But that doesn't matter. The point is, you FINALLY found a chick you can swing it with, and you’re putting a ring on it  _ first thing?  _ That’s crazy talk! Nobody walks into the bear trap of marriage THAT blind.”

“What else am I supposed to do? I’m not like you!”  _ (And I don’t want to be,  _ Darci added in his mind) “I can’t just.. h-have relations with every female I lay eyes on!”

“I resent that,” Wikaam laughed mildly. “But why not? We’re gods, after all! We take what we want!”

_ “You  _ do,” Darci mumbled bitterly into his cup, “And look how well  _ you  _ turned out.”

“What, an all-powerful party animal that never spends the night alone, and is beloved by every woman who sees him?”

“Sure,” he frowned, “That’s one way to put it.”

But the truth was, even as he condemned his brother’s actions, Darci couldn’t help being a little… jealous. Not of the things he did, no, those were heinous and despicable. But.. of how happy he seemed. And he was willing to bet his weight in drachmas that Wikaam hadn’t spent the night cold and alone in  _ millennia. _

It was cold, in the underworld. Cold and lonely.

Darci downed the rest of his glass as the bartender hurried to fetch him another one. He could feel the ethyl reactions slowing his godly metabolism, and a fog beginning to form on his judgement. He imagined Elisabet, in her flower crown and in his arms, laughing like a bluebird and warming his bed. He would never be cold again, if she was by his side.

_ So… What’s the harm in trying?  _ A treacherous voice in his head whispered,  _ You’ve been alone for so long.. don’t you deserve a chance for more? _

He took another gulp of the intoxicating liquid, roughly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  _ Can’t believe I’m doing this.  _

“Fine then,” he grimaced. He turned to his brother, and forced a smile. “What do you think I should do?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy remembers the shoddy plan Wikaam coerced him into, as he stumbles to find Elisabet. Sorta short chapter. Mostly drunken conversations, but those are some of my favorites to write ;) next up, we have a FUN time with E/D! ❤️

Many hours later, a god stumbled out of Lucas’ Tavern, smelling heavily of alcohol. He stopped to steady himself against a wall, then continued on to the field where he had last seen the mistress of his heart. The moon would have been full, but a crescent of shadow obscured the leftmost sliver. Still, it was bright, and there were an impressive bounty of stars for so early in the night.

Not that this god was paying attention.

His thoughts were as wobbly and stammering as his legs as he plowed forward. He stumbled a few times, but he would not be stopped. He had a mission.

His brother, in a surprisingly helpful manner, had explained it all to him.

_ “Darci, Darci, listen.” _

_ The god wiped his nose and looked wonderingly at his hand: it seemed to have wispy twins floating on either side. His brother grabbed all his real hand and pulled him back into the conversation. _

_ Wikaam’s smile was huge and warbling in the tavern’s dim light. “You,” he said, “need to get laid.” _

_ Darci laughed, mostly because he didn’t understand.  _

_ “I’m bein’ serious!” Wikaam said, sloshing ambrosia all over the counter in his exuberance. “You are wayyyyy too uptight, my brotha! Gettin’ it on wit’ yer new lady friend will be good for you!” _

_ “Dunno if she’s m’friend,” Darci mumbled dejectedly into his bottom lip, “I lied to her an’ ran from her an’ she pr’bly hates me now.” _

_ Wikaam slapped him hard on the back— it stung. “That’s no reason for hate!” He bellowed happily, “In fact, she’d probably hate your real self more than the lie! Your real self sucks satyr ass. Why d’ya think I never hang out with the guy?” _

_ Darci was sure there was something to be offended at in that statement, but it eluded him. Instead, he just clinked his glass with Wikaam’s and took another drink. He grinned a little. “Thanks. I hate you too, by the way.” _

_ Wikaam laughed again, and this time his brother laughed with him.  _

_ After the chuckles subsided, Wikaam set his glass down with finality. “Okay. So. Since you’re such a stiff—“ _

_ “Am not.” _

_ “—we need to come up with a game plan.” He paused. “And are too.” _

_ Darci shook his head, a little bemused grin on his face. “Don’need a game plan,” he slurred confidently. “‘M jus’ gonna go up to her and tell.. tell her I love ‘er.” _

_ “Yeah, good, that’s good,” Wikaam nodded wisely, “And don’t feel bad about lying to her. It works every time.” _

_ “‘S not a lie! I love her!” _

_ “Sure ya do. Now. The big ticket is.. THIS.” Wikaam held up a little matchbox, and opened it with an ostentatious creak. Darci peered inside. It had purple glitter in the hollow, like stardust. He sneezed.  _

_ “Careful!” Wikaam snapped at him, snapping the box shut. “That’s expensive.” _

_ “I can afford it,” Darci dismissed with a wave. He stopped, frowning. “Uhh. What is it again?” _

_ “Complacent Powder,” Wikaam grinned devilishly. “Whatever being— be it god or mortal— gets it in their system, becomes sleepy and suggestible. They do what they’re told, in a kind of happy dreamy state.” _

_ Darci blinked slowly. “Isn’t that…,” he searched for the right word. “...rape-y?” _

_ “What! No! No, no at all. It’s perfectly harmful! After you have sex with her, she’ll be able to form opinions of her own again— so it’s not rape!” _

_ Darci nodded dubiously— he didn’t trust his brother on policy— but he took the matchbox regardless.  _

_ “Now get out there and GET SOME!” Wikaam whooped. He hefted Darci up by the back of his toga, and tried to shove him towards the door. Darci flailed his arms, slapping him away.  _

_ When he regained his balance, he held up a steadying hand to his brother, then just one finger. “Thanks,” he said, “Now fuck off, please.” _

_ “Gladly,” Wikaam grinned. “Good luck, ya horny bastard!” Then he was gone, dissolved in a shower of golden sparks. Darci spat at the ground where his brother had been. Then he shrugged, wiped his mouth, and headed for the door. _

Darci breathed in a lungful of night air, and shook himself off. He looked around him, trying to think through his alcohol-soaked brain. Where had he last seen her? Hills.. hills by a stream. And there had been flowers, lots of flowers.

Darci smiled. She had smelled like flowers. Yummy flowers. Could flowers be yummy? He would have to ask her. 

Somehow, he managed to find the same meadow from that morning. It was abandoned— a lone apple tree stood sentry over the softly rustling field. Darci walked up to it and put a hand on the back. It was rough and solid. It moved under his hand. Then he heard breathing, and he looked up. His heart nearly leapt from his chest.

His goddess was here, fast asleep in the apple tree.

“Hellooo,” he whispered, his voice barely carrying through the stiflingly calm silence, “Are you waiting for me? Whazza.. is.. is this tree your home? Can.. I come in? I missed youuu..”

She didn’t answer. Darci decided she couldn’t hear him, all the way up there, when he was all the way on the ground (his face about 4 inches below her). Grunting softly, he pulled himself up into the branches. He rested his weight on the balls of his feet, crouched on a tree branch, watching her.

He hadn’t been sure about his half-formed plan before, but she was ethereal in the moonlight. She was so lovely.

Her skin (in the sunlight, a lightly toasted brown) was porcelain and white roses in the moonlight. Elisabet’s hair curled in a halo around her head, the cinnamon locks swirling like steam about her ears. Her eyelashes rested gently on her cheeks, the thick, dark lashes contrasting sharply with her starlit complexion. The freckles were sweet constellations, and her lips were… 

Darci couldn’t think of a comparison. He just wanted to kiss her. 

He leaned forward, until he knees his breath would warm her face. He paused slightly, as her eyelids began to flutter. He wanted to wait; he wanted to see her eyes crinkled in a smile as he kissed her.

Then her eyes opened, and Darci was lost in them. He smiled.

“Hello, my rosebud,” he whispered, “Did you miss me?”

Suffice to say, her reaction was.. not what he had anticipated.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi yall, sorry for not posting last night! Anyway, this chapter is a fun, drunken fluffy times between D and E (drunk Darci is actually kinda charming! Who knew!)— the next one will be from her POV. Have fun! ;)

Instead of kissing him sweetly and nestling into his arms (where she belonged), Elisabet screamed. Darci had only a half second to react before her legs pummeled him (one in his stomach, one.. lower) and he was thrown from the tree. 

He landed with a thump to the ground, and Darci groaned in pain. He curled up in the fetal position, not thinking far enough ahead to magically take away the pain in his groin. 

Unfortunately for Darci, he was too overcome with agony to realize it was (easily) within his power to stop the agony. He just whimpered on the ground, spitting out a little grass, and willing himself not to cry and embarrass himself further.

“Darci?” A voice said from above him.

He buried his face further into the soil. He didn’t want her to see him. “..no, not me,” he tried. 

“Darci, what on gaea were you doing, you foolish mortal?!” 

He tried to shrug his shoulders, but he was too tired and sad and drunk to move much. 

He heard Elisabet sigh, and a rustle next to him. Her soft, delicate hands pulled at his chest and arms, gently flipping him over. Through half-closed eyes, Darci frowned up at his love. He saw her mouth fall open, and her beautiful green eyes go wide.

“You’re.. you’re..”

“A god,” he sighed, just as Elisabet said, “You’re drunk!”

They both stopped, and stared at each other. It took a second for Darci to blink. Slowly, he said, “..that too.”

“Oh my stars!” Elisabet yelped, her voice high pitched and startled.

Darci sat up as she leapt away from him. He winced. “Hello.”

She pointed at him, shaking slightly. “You’re a god!” 

“Yes,” he said, hoping the world would stop spinning soon, “I am.”

Elisabet edged towards him slowly, as if he might bite. He didn’t want to bite her. Kiss her, yes— bite her, no. He was about to tell her as much when Elisabet held her head higher, looking imperiously above a tilted jaw.

“What is your full name?” She demanded.

“Lord Darci Hades,” said he. Then he smiled. “But I think my brother called me a nerd.”

Elisabet puffed out a kind of laugh that was incredulous and breathless. Her hands were on her hips. Her hair cascades down in tresses over her shoulders. 

“Hades,” she said,  _ “You  _ are Hades. Lord of the Dead. Hades. YOU.”

He thought about it, then nodded. “Mhm,” Darci murmured, “that’s me.”

“And… what were you doing, just now, Lord Hades?”

Darci flushed. He suddenly became very interested in  _ not  _ meeting her eyes. “Ummmmm.. nothing.”

She was angry; he could tell because brambles started clawing their way slowly through the soil around his legs. “So you lied to me,” Elisabet said. 

Darci hung his head, and in his drunken state, he felt more like a naughty child than an immortal being. 

“Why?” She asked.

This time, he answered her.

“I wanted to see you again. I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you.”

“..why?”

Darci rubbed his nose and half-smiled at her. “Cause I think you’re pretty. And nice. And I like your laugh, your have.. schhh.. v-.. really nice laugh. You made me happy and I wanted to see you again and ‘m sorry I lied and hello.”

She laughed again, and her pretty head shook from side to side. She knelt down, and Darci could see the left side of her face lit up by the moon. She was almost smiling at him. “You.. are not what I expected.”

“What did you ‘schepct?” Darci asked with a lopsided grin, not caring that he was butchering his words. He didn't care. She was smiling at him, so he didn’t care.

“I dunno, just…,” she gestured at him, “Not this.”

“Well, that’s flattering.”

He had meant it sarcastically, but her soft, freckled cheeks gained a little pink color, and it inspired the god to push his luck. He leaned forward, still grinning. “Mind if I.. flatter.. you?”

Elisabet blushed again, harder. His smile widened. 

Leaning heavily on his luck now, Darci reached out— tentatively, tenderly— and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Elisabet looked like a still kind of surprise. Her emerald eyes froze wide and turquoise in the moonlight.

Then, reluctantly, he let the moment and as he pulled his hand back. She bit her lip, thinking. “Lord Hades—,” she started, but he cut her off.

“Darci. I- I want you to would like to call me please Darci.”

She furrowed her gorgeous brow, trying to puzzle out his drunken grammar, but adjust his name nonetheless. 

_ “Darci,”  _ Elisabet said, nervously. “I.. AM  _ very  _ flattered by your attention, but.. I… don’t…. know you. At all. And it’s late, and you’re drunk. We should both.. go our separate ways, ya know? Get to bed.”

Darci knew he must have looked like a kicked puppy, because as soon as Elisabet glanced at his face she rushed to put her hands reassuringly on his chest. 

“Oh, it’s not that I don’t like you! It’s not that at all! It— It’s just…”

Darci wasn’t listening. He was too busy looking down at her small, delicate hands on his chest, and smiling. Not saying a word— but interrupting her all the same— Darci gently took her hands from the front of his toga, and softly kissed them.

Elisabet sat in stunned silence as the great god Hades, ruler of the dead, sighed happily, and nuzzled her hands as if he were a drowsy kitten.

“Mm, you smell very much good,” he murmured matter-of-factly. “Like the best flowers in the world.”

“Thank you,” said a dazed Elisabet.

“Mmm. Yes. Flowers.” Darci left a slow, lingering kiss on her knuckles, then smiled up at her. “It’s the second most wonderful thing about you, rosebud. Close third is your laugh.”

“What’s the first?” She asked, then clamped her mouth shut as if she wished she could take it back. Darci paid her no heed. He was busy gazing at his favorite thing about her.

_ “Your eyes,” _ he breathed reverently, a dreamlike smile creeping over his features. “They..  _ sparkle _ when you smile. Like.. like new snow, except your eyes are green and way most beautifully pretty.”

He frowned slightly, racking his foggy brain for some kind of comparison. He had just seen something that sparkled, something that was REALLY glittery.. what…

“Oh yeah!” Darci snapped his fingers and grinned.

Quickly (regretfully) letting go of Elisabet’s hands, Darci reached into his toga to proudly retrieve an ornate matchbox.

He opened it forward so Elisabet could see inside, and she obliged, curiously studying the fine purple substance.

“What is it?”

“Powder— magic powder,” Darci smiled happily. “It makes.. maketh… mkth…”

He breathed in once, then in some more, and then, he sneezed.

‘Complacent Powder’ settled over Elisabet like a fine snow, and he only had a moment to look into her terrified eyes, before without warning, his lady love crumpled into the grass like a puppet with its strings cut.

As he looked on with horror, Lord Darci could only find  _ one word _ in his extensive, godly vocabulary to properly summarize the immense, infallible emotion that overtook the great kind.

“...shit.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elisabet’s POV. The effects of the Complacent Powder. Sweet fluff— hurt/comfort :)  
> Will post soon, but for now, leave a comment if you liked anything in particular, or have any suggestions! Thanks for reading!

Elisabet Persephone opened her eyes to find nothing but blackness. After a brief moment of panic, Elisabet was slightly relieved to realize that, no, she was not blind— only that her eyes were still closed.

She opened them again, this time with partial success. Her eyelids stuck halfway, and refused to budge any further.

She tried to raise her head to no avail. Her arms? Legs? No, nothing was working. She was completely helpless, paralyzed all alone in the meadow.

Well, ‘all alone’ except for  _ him. _

As if on cue, Darci’s handsome face loomed over her. His forehead wrinkled in concern.

“Uh, hey. Rosebud? Um, Elisabet? Are you well?”

And here Elisabet had thought Hades was supposed to be smart. Wasn’t that the story? Hades: Cunning, cold, callous, and conniving?

Well right now, for this moronic, manipulating, piss-drunk-chucklefuck, Elisabet could safely add one more four-letter ‘C’ word to that list.. but she might be kicked out of Olympus if she said it out loud.

Instead, she said through her uncooperative lips, “Mmnnneghhmmghnnggh.”

He poked her shoulder. She moaned pathetically.

“Elisabet— can you hear me? I’m sorry I sneezed Complacent Powder on you. I didn’t mean it.”

_ ‘Complacent Powder?!’  _ Elisabet thought agitatedly,  _ What in hades was that?  _ Her eyebrows (which, thankfully, could move) scrunched together in fear and confusion. Darci seemed to notice this, and began to explain, drunkenly waving his hands as his expression grew more worried.

“You see, my brother Wikaam is not a good dude. God. He’s a god. But still, he’s not a good one— very bad to women. I tried to ask his wife for advice ‘bout how to talk to you, but he showed up instead, and I’m sorry I listened to him it was a bad idea. 

Anyway, the powder was supposed to… I don’t even know what it was  _ supposed  _ to do, but he said it makes you sleepy and suggestible and stuff. I’m sorry. I didn’t know this would happen.” 

“Mmmhyyy?” Elisabet tried to ask. Thankfully, he seemed to understand the question.

Darci flushed a little pink, and his concern turned to bashfulness in the blink of an eye. He shifted a little, almost smiling. “Because.. I wanted to kiss you.”

Elisabet didn’t know what to make of that. Her face felt hot, but her expression wouldn’t change from abject surprise. 

Darci shifted forward a little. He licked his lips. “May.. may I kiss you now?”

Elisabet’s throat wouldn’t work, even to mumble. Darci seemed to take this as a  _ ‘yes.’ _

He leaned forward, gently pressing his lips to her own. His lips were very soft. Warm, and tender. Darci tasted like melted chocolate, something almost spicy (paprika? Nutmeg?), and the slight tang of ethyl nectar. He tasted good, and Elisabet found herself wishing she could open her lips further and feel him fully. 

He moved against her, cupping her cheek. Elisabet was too stunned to do anything at first, especially when it hit her that.. she… didn’t actually mind being kissed by him. 

But then it struck her that a GOD she didn’t KNOW was KISSING HER and she needed to  _ DO SOMETHING.  _

Elisabet tried to squirm, to slap him, to scream or ANYTHING, but all she could manage was a scared whimper, and a slight shake of her head. 

Darci pulled away slowly. He blinked at her. “That was.. nice,” he said. Elisabet hated that she agreed. He smiled at her a little. “Can I do it again?” 

Elisabet’s eyes bulged and she shook even more— as much as she could. Although it was barely a tremor, Darci backed off, looking a little wounded. 

“Okay,” he said quietly, “I won’t kiss you again.”

She tried to ignore her disappointment at this statement; he was a strange god who she didn’t know! She  _ shouldn’t _ want him to kiss her again. So she just hummed a noncommittal “mm,” and narrowed her eyes.

Darci sat back, and just watched her. She looked back at him warily. He didn’t smile again, but Elisabet found herself wishing he would.  _ He had a nice smile. _

Eventually, he said, “We should get you home.”

_ Good idea,  _ Elisabet sighed internally,  _ If you go home, you can’t do any more damage, even if you ‘don’t mean it’.  _

“Uh, where is your home?”

Where was her home? He was looking at it! The meadow was her beside, the layers of grass and dirt her blankets, and the sky her walls and roof. She had no true home— she had never needed one.

Until now, apparently.

“Well, I can’t just leave you here,” Darci said, frowning. Then his face lit up. “I can take you to my place! You’ll be safe there!”

Elisabet wanted to protest— to say there was NO WAY she was going home with this strange drunken Elder, but the god in question seemed to have his mind made up. 

“You’ll be safe in my palace,” he assured her, “I can help heal you faster and it’s really nice and I think you’ll like it there. I would like you to see it— it’s very really nice.” He started to reach for her, then stopped himself.

In the moonlight, the great god looked almost shy. “Umm, Elisabet? Can I.. touch you now? I need to carry you if we’re going down.”

Elisabet didn’t (couldn’t) answer.

He seemed to realize this, and frowned, tapping his chin and trying to come up with a solution. “Hhmm, okay, uh, blink twice for Yes, three times for No, and one blink is just a regular blink.”

Elisabet blinked twice, grudgingly.  _ Her mom was going to KILL her.  _ But then she forgot all about the consequences, as Lord Darci smiled at her, and picked her up in his arms.

A thrill went through her at his touch, and she melted into his chest. 

He was strong, and carried her with ease. Even though he was..  _ incredibly _ drunk, Darci seemed to be taking care not to stumble. Elisabet appreciated that. 

Somehow, she wasn’t angry at the god. It was strange; like a thin mist had settled over her senses, and everything was clouded now. She couldn’t gather the strength to puzzle out why she wasn’t fighting back. Instead, Elisabet simply yawned without opening her mouth, and fell in a light sleep in Darci’s arms, lulled by the methodical plodding of the god’s feet.

Soon, she was being propped up in a soft bed, and Darci’s face stared at her with tender adoration. 

“Rosebud,” he whispered, “Wake up a bit.”

“Mmm?”

“The Complacent Powder is not gonna wear off any time soon— I’m sorry again about that— but I thought you could use this to keep your strength up.”

He held up a round, red fruit. Elisabet wrinkled her forehead at it.

“It’s a pomegranate,” Darci explained kindly, “the fruit of the Underworld. It works like ambrosia, keeping up the strength of the gods. Also, it’s very sweet and rare— I doubt you’ve had it before, but I think you’ll like it!”

He cracked open the red fruit with his strong hands, and pulled out a few seeds. They were small and dark red— winking like jewels in the low light. 

“Here,” he said, and put a few up to her lips.

Elisabet bit down on the seeds, and almost moaned at the explosion of flavor. They were oh so sweet, and had a delightful crunch to them. She quirked her lips, trying to smile to show her gratitude. 

Darci seemed to see this, and smiled at her softly. He few her a few more seeds, but despite all the things she had to do, Elisabet was starting to nod off.

“Hey,” his voice cut in. “Hey.”

He was shaking her awake. Elisabet unhappily cracked one eyelid. Darci’s face was close to hers; his sweet breath washed over her as her frowned bashfully. 

“Uh, I know you said you don’t want to kiss me, and I.. that’s okay, but I don’t think you’re well enough to be left alone. Do you… mind if.. I sleep next to you?”

Elisabet was shocked at his kindness, but he took the widening of her eyes the wrong way. 

He leaned back from her, the hurt plain on his face. “Oh.. Kay,” he mumbled. “I’ll just… go..”

“Wait,” Elisabet croaked. 

She surprised herself by moving her hand the unthinkable half inch to rest on his. Darci looked at her, startled, but Elisbet had already spent the last of her strength.

Faint as a dying star, the goddess of spring whispered for him to stay. 

He did.

Carefully holding her hand like one would hold a butterfly’s wings— as gently and as carefully as you could— Darci laid down next to her. Respecting her previous wishes, he did not touch her, other than her hand. 

But Elisabet could feel the ethereal warmth radiating off his body, and for the first time in eons, she fell seamlessly into sleep.

For some odd reason, as soon as the powder wore off in the dead of the night, the Goddess of Spring dreamed with a soft smile on her face, and squeezed his hand, ever so slightly.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Longish chapter. E’s POV, waking up in the underworld. Next chapter will have her confront Darci— bound to be fun ;) Will post again soon. Until then, please leave a comment or a kudos; they always make my day! 💕  
> (Btw, I made Demeter kind of a combination between Mrs Bennet and the actual Demeter, so she won’t be exactly like either. but i hope it makes sense nevertheless!)

The first thing that alerted Elisabet to the fact that ‘SOMETHING WAS WRONG’ was that she was cold. She was a goddess— she didn’t get cold. She shivered, and tucked herself further under the covers. That was what really made her pause. 

She had never slept with covers before. She… Where  _ was _ she?

Elisabet sat up slowly, and squinted out into the velvet darkness around her. She was in a large, cavernous room, with red-painted walls and curtains that were reminiscent of funeral lace. She was in a bed— large enough for a giant— with a sleek ebony headboard and large pillows haphazardly sagging against the thick blankets. Wherever she was, it was dark and cold; worlds away from her sunny meadow.

Then it all came back to her, like lightning striking.

Elisabet put a hand to mouth to stifle her gasp.  _ She remembered now. _

A waning moon. An apple tree. Kind eyes and drunken smiles. His soft hair brushing her hand, the chocolate taste of him rich and unfamiliar on her tongue. Purple dust settling over her. Paralyzation. Warmth and kindness. Betrayal. Pomegranate seeds. 

Carefully, fearing what she might see, Elisabet peeked over next to her in the bed. Sure enough, there was Darci, curled up next to her, almost spooning.

She was about to scream and kick him away, when she took note of his deep breathing and placid features: fast asleep. She shook her head, trying to dispel the thought that he looked soft in his sleep— like a child, innocent of all pain or burden.

He was neither soft, nor innocent. He was a lying, manipulative god, just like all the others. He had drugged her, and stolen her away from her home.

_ Oh gods,  _ Elisabet thought, her heart speeding up,  _ Home. I need to get home. NOW. _

Slowly, she slipped out of bed and slid her feet onto the marble floor. A shiver racked her body, and she briefly reconsidered. As a solution, she lifted the top blanket from the bed, and wrapped it around her shoulders. She padded to the front of the room, where there stood a heavy stone door.

Pushing it open as gently as she could, Elisabet still cringed when it  _ creeeeaaaked,  _ and glanced behind her to check that the god was still asleep. He was, but that wasn’t what caused Elisabet to squeak in surprise, turn beet red, and flee out the door. 

She ran down the dark hallway as quickly as she could, willing herself to forget the image of Lord Darci Hades, tousled and peaceful, completely unclothed as he sprawled over the sheet. 

_ No. No. She would not think about that.  _ Elisabet tried to remember all the reasons why she  _ shouldn’t _ be thinking about how handsome Darci had been when he smiled, or how strong and gentle he had been when he carried her home.

Wait, no. He didn’t carry her home— why would she think that? Darci carried her to HIS home, not hers.

_ Gods, snap out of it, Persephone,  _ she told herself. She remembered how Darci had gotten drunk, and acted like a fool. How he had ‘accidentally’ dosed her with paralyzing magic, and had taken advantage of it— kissing her while she was still recovering. 

And what EXACTLY had he been doing that night, when she first saw him? Leaning over her as she slept? Grade-A creep!

Oh  _ stars _ , her mother had been right. Elder gods really were animals.

Wasn’t that what Bennei Demeter had been telling her for years? 

_ “Don’t trust other gods.  _ **_Especially_ ** _ the Elders.” _

_ “Yes, mama,” Elisabet had said, not really listening. _

_ Demeter had cupped her daughter’s chin, turning her face upwards to look at her. The mother’s face had been serious and worried— this made Elisabet nervous. Her mother was always worried about something, but she was hardly ever serious. _

_ “Listen to me, my child.” _

_ Elisabet had sat up, putting away her book and giving Demeter her full attention. She swallowed, then continued. _

_ “Elisa, you were the best thing that ever happened to me. And you were the only good thing that came from my.. association with male gods.” _

_ Demeter licked her lips, shuddered, and kept going with her eyes closed. “Your father.. forced himself upon me. It was horrible, and I never want you to experience that kind of helplessness, my sweet Elisa. You deserve a happy life, free from the pain and chaos of Olympus. Those gods are animals— I don’t want them to destroy your softness and your light.” _

_ “But mama,” Elisabet piped, no longer able to hold her tongue, “What if I wanna daughter too? What if I want friends?” _

_ Demeter fretted with her hands, and pulled Elisabet closer to her. “Nonono,” she cooed, “You are better off with me. Nymphs can be your friends! And humans too, if you like. You will want for nothing, if you stay on Earth.” _

_ Seeing her daughter’s slight pout, she sighed. She closed her eyes. “Oh my child, how you test my nerves. Fine! When you are ready for love, I will find you a nice god to get married to. Preferably someone near the mortal realm, who will let you stay near to me and not visit often. Someone bright, and sunny, like you. Hmmm. Sunny… How do you feel about Wilam?” _

_ Elisabet looked at her mother, appalled. “Wilam Helios? But he’s my cousin!” _

_ Demeter laughed. “Oh, for Olympians, that’s actually much less inbreeding than usual. Get used to it, sweetie.” _

_ She hadn’t looked satisfied with this. In fact, she looked even more incensed. “But.. mama, Wilam is so.. so… dull!” _

_ “Hush now child,” Demeter scolded fondly. “You will see his worth one day. But until you are ready for marriage, you will stay here, in the mortal realm.” _

_ “Yes, mama.” _

_ “And no god will ever bother you. You will be safe, and untouched, and happy. Just never go looking for trouble.” _

_ “Yes, mama.” _

_ “Good. Now, sweet Elisa, why don’t you show me that new flower you found?” _

As she wandered down the halls of Hades’ palace, Elisabet wished she had listened better, and actually followed her mother’s directions. She had been intrigued by Darci, tempted by his handsome smile and his unbothered demeanor, but now… she just wanted to go home. 

Slipping out a chamber door, Elisabet found herself outside the palace, in an open field of rubble and stone. Even though Elisabet could sense it was morning, the sky above her was shrouded with gloom— actually, it probably wasn’t even the sky, but just a cave ceiling towering far, far above her. 

In the distance, shadowy figures slipped in and out of sight. Elisabet could just hear their wails and pelas faintly in the distance. It was beyond unnerving, and for the first time, Elisabet felt genuine fear. She picked up her heels, and began to run across this subterranean wasteland. Just as her feet started to smart from the uneven ground, she reached a river cutting across the Underworld.

It was deep blue, swirling with silver and bubbling with murk. On the other side, Elisabet could see a staircase, outlined by warm yellow light, and a grateful hope surged through her.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the water, ready to wade across to freedom. 

Except she never made it that far.

Before Elisabet’s foot even reached the water, a translucent barrier sprung into existence, preventing her from moving forward. Elisabet paused. She looked at the air in front of her.

Putting out her hand, she reached out, and was again stopped by a glass-like wall. She pushed. It didn’t budge. Getting desperate, Elisabet threw her weight against it. She struck her shoulder, slid down, and landed in a heap on the riverbank. 

That was when she heard dry, throaty laughter, mocking her from across the river.

Elisabet looked up through her hair (which had fallen into her eyes when she fell), and glared at the god on the other side of the river.

He was tall and broad, with dark skin and shaggy white hair. He wore a white tunic, and from behind him there emerged two giant black wings. He had a devil’s smile. He showed it off to her, manically.

“Pardon me, sir!” Elisabet called across, swallowing her anger, “Do you know how I might traverse to the other side? I would greatly appreciate any help!”

“Sure ya would missy!” The god laughed. His voice was hoarse and rumbly, annoyingly amused. “But’cha can’t!”

“Why not? I need to go!”

The man’s smile fell away from his face, and Elisabet took an involuntary step back. 

“You would leave him so soon?” The strange god asked, his voice dangerously calm. “You are not worthy to be his bride. But of course, that is not for me to decide. You are stuck here, forever.”

“What are you talking about?” She cried, “I want to go home!”

“You are home,” the god snarled, “and you better get used to it.”

With that, he opened his wings, and disappeared through the staircase on the other side. Elisabet was all alone on the riverbank, alone in the underworld. One word was going round and round in her head, and the finality of it came crashing down.

_ Forever. _

_ Stuck here, forever. _

In the depths of the underworld, a goddess fell to her knees, and wished she had never laid eyes on the Lord of the Dead.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorta short chapter. Elisabet and Darci have an awkward chat— he agrees to help. e’s POV. Humor (for us, not for her lol) Might be Darci’s POV next- that’d be fun :) Will post soon! Enjoy!

As she was kneeling on the ground, trying not to cry, Elisabet began to take note of the noises around her. The faint wails and desperate cries of the undead souls—

They were getting closer.

Looking up, Elisabet saw no less than a dozen shadowy figures creeping towards her, primeval movements accentuated by their glowing, lifeless eyes. She froze in fear, watching them approach. 

Then a hand grabbed her shoulder from behind, ethereal nails digging into her flesh. Whirling, she found a dead man with eyes like a shark towering over her. His mouth was open, revealing mangled glass shards that may have one been teeth.

“Oh  _ fuCK NO!”  _

With one swift motion, Elisabet kicked the spirit in the chest, sending him tumbling backward with a hollow crunching sound. As another figure tried to seize her arms, she punched it in the throat.

Then she ran. 

Her fist stung from the contact point, and her feet were aching from the unforgiving turf below her. She kept running. Her lungs burned and her heart hammered, but she kept running. She did not stop until she was inside the palace, at Darci’s door, and throwing it open in a blind rage.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” She screamed.

Darci, for his part, did not answer, as he was too busy falling out of bed and flailing with the tangled sheet.

“Huh?” He said, a hand to his head. “Wh- um?”

“WHY CAN’T I LEAVE?! WHAT DID YOU DO, YOU EVIL GOD?!”

“Please,” Darci ground out, his hand digging into his scalp now. “Please stop yelling.”

Elisabet obliged, but that did not stop the words from pouring out of her, angry and agitated. “First you drug me, then kidnap me, then I wake up in your bed and spirits of the dead attack me and I went to the river trying to get out and I CAN’T GET ACROSS!”

“MADAM,” Darci bellowed, his eyes tightly shut, “PLEASE ALLOW ME A MOMENT!”

Stunned at his rudeness, Elisabet snapped her mouth shut, glaring at him. After a moment, he took a deep breath, obviously trying to compose himself.

“Madam,” he said stutteringly, “I am very sorry if I have caused you any pain— it was unintentional.”

She snorted. He continued as if he hadn’t heard.

“I.. I did not think.. I didn’t think. I simply acted. I apologize. It was unlike me. I must say however, I cannot be sorry you are here.” He looked up at her. His dark eyes were black holes; utterly impenetrable. “Now. What seems to be the problem?”

Elisabet tried to gather her courage. Her confidence— born of fear and rage— was beginning to crumble under the god’s solemn gaze.

“I- there is a barrier, by the river. I need to cross it.”

Darci furrowed his brow. “I.. do not have the pleasure of understanding you.” Suddenly, he made a strange sound in the back of his throat, and pressed a hand to his mouth. “Forgive me..,” he mumbled, then turned and dry heaved. 

Elisabet averted her eyes until he coughed and seemed to get to his feet. When she turned back to him, Darci was standing. His sallow face was tinged with pink, and his unfathomable eyes suddenly reminded Elisabet of a frightened buck. His hands were clasped in front of him, covering his modesty.

Then, it struck Elisabet that he was naked.

With a strangled gasp, she whipped herself around to face the wall. She could feel her face burning a bright crimson.  _ How on Gaea had she not realized he had been unclothed?! Oh, what must he think of her!? _

A short clearing of his throat allowed Elisabet a respite from her thoughts. She cautiously turned around to find Darci wrapped in the sheet. His face was stoic, like a man facing the gallows.

“I am sorry for my appearance,” he said, as if discussing the weather.

“It is nothing,” Elisabet choked out. She was determined to keep her eyes firmly on his face.  _ Nothing _ below.

Because she was so focused on his face, Elisabet had the privilege of seeing it soften briefly with embarrassment, saw his eyes flick to the bed then back to her. “I usually sleep without blankets,” Darci explained gruffly, the words detached and stuttering. “I thought you might be cold, so I put them on.”

Elisabet blushed had not yet left her. “Thank you.”

He cleared his throat again. “Ahm, no problem. But, ah, you see, I was overheated, and..,” Darci’s ears reddened, now matching his face. “I was not in the right mind to disassude myself.”

“I’ll say,” she smirked slightly, forgetting her nervousness. “I’m honestly surprised you didn’t pass out on the way here.”

“I did pass out,” he corrected, failing to see her humor, “But I had to make sure you were alright first.”

“Ah.” 

She didn’t know what else to say. She looked down at her feet. She was still barefoot.

“Uhm,” his voice said. She looked up at him. He was staring at her. She couldn’t puzzle out his expression. “C-could you.. please leave?”

Elisabet’s face darkened. “That’s the  _ problem,”  _ she hissed, “I  _ CAN’T _ LEAVE!”

Darci winced, as if bothered by her voice. He nodded a few times. “Right, uhm yes.” He cleared his throat a third time, causing Elisabet to fleetingly wonder if he had a cold. 

“Would you…,” he trailed off.

“Would I  _ what?”  _ She asked bitingly. “What more could you  _ possibly  _ want from me?”

He coughed, embarrassed. “Could you please leave the room? So I may get dressed?”

And here Elisabet had thought the situation could not get more awkward. “Oh. Yes. Um, right, of course.”

She fled the room (though would not say ‘flee,’ she would say ‘tactical retreat’), and braced herself against the wall outside, breathing heavily. Gods did not get panic attacks. They did not. That was what she told herself. 

Elisabet straightened her spine, and tried to breathe regularly. Things would all be alright. Darci would fix it. He seemed.. not  _ good,  _ per say, but a touch more honorable than other gods. Possibly.

Besides, even an Elder god could not be so cruel as to keep her here forever, in this empty cavern of dead souls and no sun. Elisabet smiled, weakly. Things were not as bad as they seemed.

Soon, everything would go back to normal.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter, this time. Meeting this version of the Colonel. explanations. Darci’s POV, kind of an emotional roller coaster for the poor guy lol. Hope you enjoy, and stay safe out there yall!

It took a little longer to compose himself than Darci had anticipated. First of all, he was not used to being hungover— especially not to this degree. He felt seasick, and his skull felt like it was compressing on his brain with a vice-like grip. It was an easy enough fix, to magically heal away the pain, but he still felt disoriented. Off his feet.

Maybe it was the fact that the love of his life had burst into his room, yelled at him, and then seen him naked and all but ran from the room.

Yeah. That might have something to do with it.

Truthfully, Darci wasn’t too bothered by being seen in his natural state. If Elisabet was to be his wife, she would see him that way as often as she wanted (and Darci hoped it would be often). Plus, he had been told he was… not.. bad to look at. And was really cute when she blushed.

No, he wasn’t embarrassed about that. He was  _ embarrassed,  _ because he had been so decomposed by her entrance. He hadn’t even said hello! What must she think of him? He hadn't even formally offered marriage yet!

And he WAS going to propose. He had decided it, lying next to last night, and realizing he could never go back to sleeping without her. She had been so warm, like sunlight personified and bottled up in her soft skin. 

Darci sighed, his muscles relaxing as he remembered it. 

Yes, Elisabet was warm, and light. Darci knew, once he held her hand and felt her warmth, he could never be without her. It would destroy him.

But for now, he had to remember she was still a goddess— still had hopes and dreams and feelings, ones that he needed to be understanding of.  _ What had she asked him? Something about a river…  _

Well, it couldn’t hurt to show Elisabet her future realm— he hoped she would like it. She would bring such life into the Underworld! She was just what he needed— er, well, what his  _ realm  _ needed. He would help her, with whatever problem she had. Then they would eat breakfast and maybe she would let him kiss her again.

Darci smiled bashfully at the thought. His memories from last night were slightly blurry, but he remembered her lips against hers.

Elisabet tasted wonderful. Like pure ambrosia, like honey and rainbows and fresh strawberry juice. She was sweeter than any food he had tasted, and as soon as her lips met his, Darci had known he was addicted.

He couldn’t help himself grinning as he pulled on his best cloak, and combed his hair. He chewed up some minty chocolate— to calm him, and also maybe to help with morning-breath. 

Gods didn’t get morning breath, of course, but one could never be too careful.

He opened the door, eagerly, to find Elisabet’s hands over her eyes and her looking very distressed.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

Her eyes popped open. She stared at him, but Darci didn’t mind. Her eyes were beautiful.  _ “Am I alright?”  _ She repeated, gaping. He nodded. She laughed incredulously under her breath.

“No,” Elisabet said, as if it was obvious, “I am not alright.”

“Oh, are you ill?” Darci breathed, worried. “Is there anything I can do? Anything you require?”

“Yes,” she glared, “You can help me get out of here.”

Darci could feel his heart stop for just a second. This wasn’t what he had pictured. “What?” He heard his voice say, weakly, as if from a distance, “You— you want to leave me?”

“Of course,” Elisabet said lightly, “You kidnapped me, and I want to go home. Frankly put, m’Lord, I want nothing to do with you.”

Then she turned on her heel, and stalked out of the palace. 

Darci stood there, for a second. It felt as though the world was static around him; he was trapped in a nightmare, reality slipping away from him. 

Then Elisabet stuck her head back through the door, and he could just barely breathe again. Barely.

“Hey. Darci. You coming?”

“What?”

She rolled her beautiful eyes. “Are you coming?” Elisabet repeated slower, seeming exasperated. “I need to find out how to cross this river.”

Then she ducked out of sight again, but this time Darci was propelled into action. He chased after her, through the palace yard and out into the plains of the Underworld.

“Is this,” he wheezed, struggling to keep up with her (she was a very good walker, outstripping him easily), “Is THIS the last time I am ever to see you?!”

“Yes,” Elisabet said, flippantly.

He huffed angrily, though he wasn't really angry at  _ her.  _ It was more that he was FURIOUS that she was just— just— treating it like no big deal! This was the love of the Millennium they were talking about, and just wanted.. wanted to throw it away! He would never love again. Not like this.

“But— but—,” he spluttered, helpless.  _ “WHY?” _

“Because I hate it here,” Elisabet frowned. She gestured out at the wasteland he called home. “It is dark and cold; it is empty, and yet somehow that emptiness is filled with foreboding.”

Darci had more meant ‘why do you want to leave me, I love you,’ but he felt the tug to dissuade Elisabet of her opinion. “It’s not  _ that  _ bad,” he tried.

She gave him a withering look. “The spirits of the dead tried  _ to eat me.” _

“WHAT? Are you hurt? Oh my gods, that’s never happened before!”

Elisabet folded her arms as they walked. She seemed shaken, but nonplussed by his reaction. “Yeah. It wasn’t fun.”

“I.. suppose they must have been drawn to your light,” he mused after a moment. He smiled sheepishly at her. “I’ve never brought down anyone who shines quite like you.”

Elisabet blushed adorably, but she spoiled it by frowning at him. “I’m still leaving, you know. No flattery will change my mind.”

Darci didn’t know quite what to say to that. He kept his mouth shut and his eyes downcast. His heart felt heavier, somehow, as they walked. Finally, however they reached the River Styx.

As they reached the deep blue water, its bubbles as milky as always, outlined against the dark liquid. He studied the river, the border of his domain, with something akin to despair. Suddenly though, Darci was startled out of his melancholy by Elisabet’s gasp, and her hand on his forearm.

“Look!” She gasped, pointing across the river. “It’s the god from— from before! Do you know him? Can  _ he _ give me some answers?”

Darci was too stunned by the sensation of her delicate hand on his bare skin to understand much of what she was saying. Then, belatedly, he blinked. Squinting across the murky river, Darci spotted a figure sitting on the far bank of the Styx, lounging by the water’s age. Coal black angel wings sprouted from the silhouette.

“Rykard?”

Across the river, his close friend/business partner looked up, and grinned. In a flash, his wings opened, and Rykard propelled himself across the water. He landed on his feet beside them, a touch closer than he perhaps should. Elisabet inhaled sharply, and instinctively shifted closer to Darci. Darci himself was torn between relishing in the butterflies erupting in his stomach and greeting his friend. In the end of a harrowing moment, his friend took the choice away from him.

“At your service, my liege,” Rykard said impishly, bowing. “And my lady,” he added as an afterthought.

“Rykard,” Darci said, grinning, “What in the hades are you doing in hades? I thought you would be up collecting souls for at least four more eons.”

“Nah,” he guffawed, “I figured you would want me here now. The dying can manage themselves for a spell.”

“Collecting souls? Dying?” Elisabet asked, looking back and forth between the two gods. “Are you.. by chance…?”

“Rykard Thanatos,” said he, “God of Death.”

At Elisabet’s curious look, Darci sighed long-sufferingly. “NO, it is not the same thing.  **I** am the God of the Dead. As in, ruler of those-already-passed.  **Rykard** is the one who  _ actually _ is Death.”

“Ohh,” she said, raising her eyebrows, “my mistake.”

“Anyway, um,” Darci shuffled his feet as he shuffled his expression from smile to serious, “Elisabet here— uh, Elisabet Persephone, goddess of spr—”

“I know who she is,” Rykard interrupted. Darci looked at him for a moment. He didn’t like the gleam in his eye, but he continued anyway.

“Well, uh, she said she was having trouble.. crossing? Do you know anything about that?”

“Why would you need to cross?” Rykard asked, humor draining out of his voice as he folded his arms. “Are you unhappy here?”

Elisabet rubbed her temples. “Look, my Lord, I just want to go home. I’m tired and hungry and frankly, frightened. I just want things to go back to normal.”

Rykard’s hard features softened slightly. He looked almost sympathetic to the young goddess. “I’m sorry,” he said gently, “But this is your home now. You must learn to adjust.”

“But why?” Elisabet demanded fiercely, green eyes blazing with what may have been tears. “Why must I stay?”

Rykard glanced at Darci. “Should I tell her, or do you want to?”

Darci shrugged, brow furrowed. “I’m in the dark with this one, friend.”

Moving forward, the god of death offered his hand to Elisabet. She took it after only a moment’s hesitation. Gently, he led her forward to the water’s edge. “Try and reach across,” Rykard instructed softly.

She did, but her hand was stopped by a barrier of some kind, translucent and shimmering across the Styx. Rykard nodded, and then scooped up a handful of dirt from the bank. He tossed it towards the water, and, just like Elisabet’s hand, it was stopped before it could reach the river’s surface.

“Gods may travel back and forth from the Underworld,” Rykard said, turning to her, “but only because they were not born here. Things that belong here, stay. The dirt, the trees, the lost souls— all cannot leave. You belong here now.”

“How?” Elisabet cried, “I was born in the mortal realm! Shouldn’t I be able to leave?!”

“You would have been able to,” he conceded, “Had you not partaken in the magic of the Underworld.”

“What?”

“Pomegranate seeds,” Rykard said in his rumbly voice. “I don’t know why you ate them, but you must have had a good reason. They give you all the strength of the Underworld, but they ensure that you are bound to it, unequivocally.”

Elisabet stood in stunned silence. Darci was beside her, struggling fiercely to sort out his feelings. He was elated. Euphoric. He should not be, but he was. His dearest, loveliest Elisabet would get to stay with him forever! She would never leave his side again! He would finally have his bride. He would get to wake up every morning with her, and smile as he worked, and never be lonely again. He would be hers, and she would be his. Forever and ever.

But.. then he saw her face. Her soft lips— that tasted of strawberry juice and honey— twisted into a scowl that made Darci think she was trying not to cry. Her eyes flashed with wrathful power. 

_ “You,”  _ she snarled, “This is all  _ your _ fault!  _ Your plan  _ to keep me here!”

“Elisabet, no, I—”

“No!” She yelled. Thorns began clawing their way through the soil around her, briars slithering out from the ground like snakes. “I don’t trust you! Stay away from me, you.. you... JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!”

She started to run, magically tearing across the Underworld. Before Darci could grab her and tell her that it wasn’t safe, she was already out of reach.

“Well,” Rykard said. “That’s one _fine_ missus you got there.”

“Shut up.” Darci stared after her longingly. Finally, he had gotten everything he had ever wished for.. but at what cost.  _ What was love if it was only given one way? _

“Hey hey, just bein’ friendly!” He paused, and coughed into his fist. “Uhm, boss?”

“Yes?”

“Isn’t that.. uh, _Tartarus,_ she’s heading towards?”

“Aw shit!” Darci cursed. “I need to go get her, before.. before…” He trailed off with a strangled sound of fear and displeasure. 

“Go, boss,” Rykard said, slapping him on the back. “Save your lady.”

As the great god started after his unwilling love, Rykard Thanatos stared after the couple, a slight smile on his dark features. “Oh yes..,” he said to himself, “This is going to be _fun.”_


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Running out of time, and into Tartarus. Elisabet’s POV. Got really into a poetic description mood at the end, so be forewarned. Will post soon :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIYA Y’ALL!  
> I’m so sorry I have been neglecting my stories, I don’t have much of an excuse. The play that I’m doing is gearing up, and rehearsals will be staying until 9 every night, but I don’t know how much that will REALLY put a damper on my writing (when i get stressed, I write more lol).  
> But I will be posting again soon, and none of my stories will be left unfinished! Pinky promise :)  
> Anyway, leave a comment with any questions/suggestions/commendations! Love yall! 💕 ~Vinny

During her time in the mortal world, Elisabet had walked all over Greece, Italy, and even some of Africa. That work had apparently paid off— even for a goddess, she was fit. 

Her legs ate up the ground between her and the horizon. Knees pumping, she forged ahead, not caring where her feet took her. She just had to get away.

She no longer knew what to think of Darci Hades. She tried not to think at all, right then. Elisabet just wanted to get away.

As she ran, stalagmites in the distance began to loom ever closer; a mountain range of jagged stone erupting from the soil. The steep, rounded sides jutted out of the plains like teeth, but scattered in no particular order and in no particular abundance. When Elisabet neared one of them, a figure swooped down on black wings. 

“Hey! Wait!”

Elisabet dug in her heels in order to make a sharp turn, trying to avoid the God of Death and the awkward conversation that was sure to follow him. Rykard, however, seemed to have other plans. 

He glided low above her, lounging in the air. His hands were tucked behind his head, tangled up in his shaggy white mane.

“Sooo..,” Rykard said, “Where ya goin’?”

Elisabet didn’t answer. She tried to increase her pace, but Rykard just flapped his wings and soared right back to her.

“C’mooon, Elisa, Darci’s not  _ that  _ bad.”

“You’re biased. You work for him.”

“Ah, work WITH him,” Rykard corrected with a friendly frown. “And am not.”

“Still,” Elisabet grunted, breathing a little heavily now that she was running nearly twice the speed of a gazelle, “You weren’t  _ kidnapped  _ by him.”

He didn’t have an answer for that. At least, not one that didn’t involve throwing his head back into the air and laughing. “Gods,” he said, “Dude really screwed up, didn’t he?”

“Mhm,” Elisabet mumbled.

They didn’t say anything else for a while. Eventually, Rykard asked, “How do you two know each other, really? Darci never tells me anything off the cuff.”

“Um,” she said, gasping a little, “His friend? It wasn’t a long acquaintance— just a few minutes. Then he drugged me, and I woke up here without anyone but him around.”

Rykard winced. “Yeesh. He must have it  _ bad.” _

Elisabet wasn’t paying attention to her winged companion, however. Her mind had stuck on their first meeting— hers and Darci’s. 

He had been with his friend. Nice guy— but was he a god too? And.. Elisabet had been with Ioanna.  _ Ioanna. IOANNA!  _

Her friend must be so worried about her! How long had it been? How long had she been gone? AND HAD SHE JUST LEFT HER POOR FRIEND WITH A STRANGE GOD OH NO NO NO. She.. she had to  _ do _ something. Let her know, somehow, where she was, and that she was more or less okay. A sort of.. distress signal. Maybe.. Ioanna would know how to get her home.

But first, she had to ditch the Death God.

As Elisabet picked up her pace to a full sprint, Rykard did the same. He laughed at her, his shaggy hair snapping in the wind as it rushed past. 

“You’ll have to do better than that, sweetheart!” He called out with a laugh.

Elisabet grinned.

Then she was gone.

Or, at least, she was gone from Rykard’s line of sight.

In reality, she had stopped running and dove into a crouch, pressing herself flat to the ground as the god rocketed overhead. By the time he realized she was no longer running, he must have been at least twenty miles past. 

And then it was too late for him to stop her.

With a scream of pure, godly power, Elisabet Persephone plunged her hands deep into the hard ground, cracking apart rock with the sheer will of desperation. Roots manifested themselves from nothing, bulging up through the layers of rock snaking through the dust and stone. With a burst of green light, Elisabet sent branches spiraling up to the cavernous ceiling of the underworld. A trunk birthed itself from thin air, swelling until it overshadowed the tallest mountain in the underworld. And Elisabet kept pushing. She pumped all of her energy into the ground, willing her magic to send a signal, a sign, a symbol of her anguish to the world above.

_ HELP ME,  _ Elisabet screamed in the ancient language. 

She screamed until her voice was raw, but the magic kept growing. It usually flowed out of her like sap, controllable and slow, but this energy tore through her more like a maritime store— a hurricane that was blowing out of her control.

Rykard Thanatos could sense her life force seeping into the tree, and out of the goddess. A thread of fear wound its way into his heart. He knew, in that moment, if anything happened to this lively, freckled Goddess, that Darci would never forgive himself. He started throwing himself at the tree, fighting to get through, but his wings became tangled in the branches that were still growing like nothing natural ever had, and he could not get to her fast enough.

Meanwhile, Darci, rounding the bend, stopped in his tracks at the sight before him. The gargantuan tree spiraled into the heavens of his realm; a tall, bright pillar of life in a world of darkness. It glowed with energy, bright as the summer and gentle as the first frost. 

But that wasn’t what caught his attention.

“ELISABET!”

She didn’t even have the strength to turn around. She crumpled, limp, to the floor of the Underworld. Her immortal life force began to shine from the Ichor in her veins, and— to Darci’s horror— more beings than he were attracted to her spark.

Skeletal fingers began to pierce the ground from below. A skull (then another, and another) emerged, gnawing its way through the dirt with undead hunger. Shadowy fibers bubbled up around the weakened goddess, dark tendrils leeching away her energy with the reckless abandon of mindless creatures, with nothing left to lose.

Darci ran to her, and summoned all of his strength to wrench her from the grasp of the undead beings. He roared in desperate fury when he saw the lifeless state of her face. A blast of dark purple energy exploded out around the god’s feet, and all the shadowy tendrils dissipated, and the writhing bones were reduced to ash. 

The Lord of the Dead slumped down at the base of the tree, growing where nothing could ever live, and held his love close.

He could feel her heartbeat.

And he had hope, frantic though it may be.

Elisabet knew none of this. She was awake, but in an odd, dreamlike state where the world pressed in on her ears, muffling all sound with the dull hum of empty atmosphere. She breathed, and her unseeing eyes wandered to gaze above her.

The branches fractaled above her, obscuring the Underworld’s sky. Leaves bursted into existence, flaming green and explosive. Glowing flowers unfurled, dousing the realm in a dim orange light. The tree spiraled higher, and farther, encasing Elisabet in a coffin of wood and leaves. It broke through the surface. 

And when it did, when the sun kissed her leaves, the wind rustled her branches, and the world was okay again. The spring survived. 

Elisabet could see the clouds. She could see the sky, feel the breeze on her skin. It was warm, spicy, and sweet. It tasted almost like.. chocolate?

She abruptly opened her eyes. Darci’s face was above her, hovering, floating, dark curls cascading down into his worried brown eyes. His mouth moved. He was saying something, screaming it.

Elisabet wished she could hear what he said. Somehow, in this clear absence of thought, she knew that she didn’t hate him. Not completely.

As her vision faded out against the backdrop of noise and blood and flower petals, Elisabet felt… a great clarity settle over her.  _ Everything was perfect, in this moment, right now. _

“ELISABET WAKE THE FUCK UP I NEED YOU HERE PLEASE DEAR GODS!”

_ ...aaand it was gone. _


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an odd POV. Checking back in on our Earth friends before moving on back to our lovely couple. Will post soon! Leave a kudos if u like. Love y’all  
> (Also, it was a bit confusing having Bennei Demeter and Binlei Hermes together, so I will be referring to her as Lady Bennei, unless its by Elisa)

The Olympians would never admit this, but humans technically _could_ function without them. Humans are resourceful like that. Clever. Resilient. Like cockroaches! 

But that’s beside the point. 

The point was, if one of the gods suddenly disappeared off the face of the earth, humanity would be alright. They would adapt!.. for _most_ gods, that is. Everything would be fine if Dionysius, or Hephaestus, or Hera left mysteriously. Things were different when the god who disappeared was one OF the Earth. 

If Wilam Helios disappeared, the sun would never shine again, and the world would freeze. If Denni Apollo disappeared, there would be no medicine, and society would fall to plague after plague.

Similarly, if a goddess of nature were to, say, be trapped underground with no way to reach the mortal realm, humanity would, hypothetically…

...starve.

Hypothetically speaking, of course!

Humans would find less flowers, at first. Not really thinking anything of it. They would see the grass start to wilt a little— no big deal, right? Then the leaves would fall in early May, and the branches would wither into shriveled husks. Okay, maybe that’s a little worrying, but it can’t get worse.. right?

WRONG. Very, very wrong.

Without the touch of their Mistress, the fields turned to ash, and the leaves could no longer produce food. The rivers ran dry, the wind became parched, and the color drained out of the meadows and seeped underground, slowly.

Slowly, people began to go hungry.

Slowly, gods started to notice.

Now, you must understand, Lady Bennei Demeter was not the most observant of rulers. She spent most of her time roaming the land, blessing do-gooders with bountiful crop yields and doting on her beloved daughter. Bennei avoided other gods, for the most part, because of some.. bad experiences, in her early years of immortality. She was a nervous, fluttery soul, who would rather spend a quiet afternoon in a corn field gossiping with her nymph friends than ruling the Earth. 

Her daughter would be with her, of course.

Ah, sweet Elisa Persephone! The Child of Nature, Mistress of the Spring! She was as cute as a button, as sharp as a tack, and as wild as the wind. 

Who could _not_ love her?

Now— _that_ was what Lady Bennei was afraid of. What would happen if the wrong god fell for her sweet baby? Would he take her away from her? Would he hurt her? What if the one who fell for her was someone like Wikaam, rude and self-centered, or Darci, cold and unfeeling. 

Elisabet could never love someone like that, Lady Bennei was sure.

But she was beautiful, and kind, and her soul was a laughing one of light; SOMEONE WOULD FALL IN LOVE WITH HER AND THAT WOULD BE THE DAY THE WORLD ENDED.

The day the world ended, as it so happened, was a Friday. 

Lady Bennei Demeter had left her sweet Elisa with that nymph friend of hers, packed her chariot, and headed for Andorra for a well-deserved vacation. On the way, she stopped to water her horses (they were magical and had no need to rest or drink, but still, it was good to be nice), and she noticed that an orchard was.. not in bloom, to say the least.

The trees were bare and dry and dark, dead to the core. Petals shattered like glass against the shriveled grass. _Something was very wrong. WRONG WITH SPRING._

She turned around and sped all the way back to Greece as fast as her magic horses could take her.

When she got there, she found the nymph friend— Ioanna, was it?— frantically combing the countryside with some man.

 _“Where is she?”_ Lady Bennei seethed, her eyes glowing with ethereal anguish.

Ioanna jumped a little, a hand to her chest. She looked pale and pink and thin in the graying sunlight. “M-my lady,” she stammered, fumbling a curtsy.

Lady Bennei waved her off. “Where is my daughter!” She demanded.

“I-,” Ioanna said. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, _you don’t know.”_

Ioanna trembled like the last leaf on a branch when fall came. She looked like she was about to snap in half with fear and worry. Lady Bennei couldn’t bring herself to care.

The man beside her waved. “Hi.”

Lady Bennei squinted at him. _No. It wasn’t…_ “BINLEI HERMES,” she said in a booming voice, “DID YOU TAKE MY DAUGHTER?!”

“Hermes?!” Ioanna gasped, at the same time Binlei exclaimed, “What? No! Never!”

Ignoring the nymph’s betrayed expression and focusing on the trouble-making god, Lady Bennei folded her arms and glared. “You have exactly 10 seconds to explain yourself, young god.”

Binlei swallowed. “Well, you see, I was with a, uh, friend of mine, and we met your daughter and Ioanna. My friend ran off, and Ioanna and I went out to dinner at the patio resultant where they had really nice candles and we had dessert and nothing untoward happened except I kissed her on the cheek and we watched the sunset and—“

Lady Bennei snapped her fingers, interrupting the obviously lovesick god’s ramblings. “I don’t care about that!” She seized his shoulders, shaking him lightly. _“What happened to my daughter?”_

“I- we don’t know, your ladyship,” Binlei said nervously, “When we came back, Elisabet was gone. We— we’ve been looking for her ever since.”

“GODS!” Lady Bennei shrieked in anger, “USELESS!”

She stormed off without another word (that wasn’t a swear). Binlei Hermes stared sheepishly after her. “Did I say something wrong?”

When he received no answer, he looked at the nymph to his side. Her baby blue eyes were narrowed in fury.

“What?”

“You’re a GOD?!”

Binlei cringed. He rubbed the back of his head, attempting a smile. “Ummm. Yes.”

Ioanna, in a rare fit of temper, threw her hands up into the air, before forgiving him without question.

“You should have told me,” she frowned. 

He hung his head. “I know.”

Features softening just slightly, Ioanna cupped his cheek. “Hey.” She smiled at him. “It’s fine. I just wish I knew.”

Binlei grinned softly, kissing the palm of her hand.

Ioanna pulled back with a short intake of breath. Poor Binlei looked momentarily offended, before the nymph clutched at his toga and searched his face. “Your friend,” she said slowly, “The one who left early. Was he.. a god too?”

“Yeah. That was Hades.”

Ioanna blinked. “Hades? But I thought he was supposed to be… well, I’m sorry to be so rude to your friend, but.. the rumors say… he is a bit… cold.”

“The rumors call him an emo boogeyman with a stick up his ass,” Binlei said ruefully, then shook his head. “And he’s usually like that, is the thing. That day with you and Elisabet.. something was different.”

“Could he have taken her?”

 _Now_ Binlei looked offended. “Darci?! No, no, he would never!”

Just then, the ground split apart, and the trunk of a magnificent tree wound its way out of the earth. Flowers unfurled at a rate that would make your head spin, leaves crawling over each other like ants to reach the sunlight. The occasional skull or rib cage would be skewered on the fast-growing branches. 

Ioanna and Binlei leaned over, looking into the chasm into which the tree’s roots disappeared. It seemed to go down forever, or, at the very least, to the end of the Earth.

The god and the nymph raised their heads in unison, staring at each other. The nymph lifted her eyebrows, and the god cocked a wry, almost flustered smile.

“Well,” he said, “I may be mistaken.”

“Hmm,” Ioanna hummed. She sweetly linked her arm through Binlei’s and looked up into the sunlight for what might be the very last time in a while. “I think…,” she gulped, gathering her courage. “I think we need to take a trip to the Underworld.”

“I think you may be right.”

Ioanna giggled, suddenly nervous. “Will it be, uhm, dangerous? Going down there?”

Binlei did his best reassuring smile and patted her hand. “Don’t worry my angel. We’ll be fine, and I’m sure Elisabet will be too.” He grinned at her. He winked. “It’ll certainly be interesting though, seeing Darci’s face give off— gods forbid— actual emotion!”

She laughed. He smiled. And then they were off.

Two beings, linked at the arms and the hearts, ready to search for the lost soul of the spring.

Meanwhile, miles below strata of rocks and bone and soil, past the gateway of realms and far into the land of the dead, a very awkward god was trying not to blush, and a very weakened goddess was trying not to murder him unnecessarily.

Oh yes, the Underworld was about to become a _very_ interesting place indeed.


End file.
